Fire and Ice
by Slayergirl
Summary: A short exploration of the possible events leading to the downfall of Charn, pre-The Magician's Nephew. Rated T for reported violence.


They had loved each other once, many moons ago, before their father had started playing them off against each other. By the time they realised, it was too late to turn the tide; factions had formed, trust was broken. Perhaps it had amused him in his vicious, cruel old age to see his two daughters at war with each other, tearing apart Charn even more than he had managed in his madness.

Eleni thought it must be so, anyway.

It was not in the nature of the ruling family of Charn to share, though she had shared with Jadis – everything. How could she not? They were twins, bound to each other. Jadis, half an hour older, had protected her, loved her, consoled her, until their father's machinations forced them apart. Why had he hated everything good and pure in life? Had it reminded him of their mother, the sweet, innocent girl she had been before he married her, before she died? Eleni barely remembered her, and wished, desperately wished, she could have more than a fleeting memory of her.

Their mother had not trusted magic, and it was partly because of this that she had agreed to Jadis' suggestion that they should not to use it against each other in this battle for Charn. But deep down, Eleni wondered if there was not still some love left between the sisters, a whisper of the love they had thought unbreakable, buried deep in their hearts, that would keep them from harming each other as long as possible.

Or was Jadis lying about not using magic? Or was she simply afraid to use it? And why, _why_ had her father named Eleni his heir, when Jadis was the older? Another of his machinations, no doubt, stirring up trouble between them. He must have known Jadis would resent the slur.

She reached hesitantly for the wand that was never far from her, its flames licking her hand like the tongue of a faithful hound. _Not using you_, she told it, but felt the struggle, greater each time than the last. _Not using you, just need to hold you, know you're there. Not using you. Not using you._ No wonder their mother had distrusted magic, had not wanted their father to teach them; perhaps she'd understood how addictive the power was. Did Jadis know she struggled with the addiction? Was that why she'd made that bargain – because she thought Eleni would not be able to hold out, and with the tiniest spell, she would have the right to unleash her own magic? Jadis knew the Deplorable Word – but surely, _surely_ even she would have the sense not to use it, even power-crazed as she was?

Magic, and the use of it, was a dangerous business. It would have been better if father had listened to mother, she reflected; but father had never listened to anyone much. Mother had died not long after that…

Eleni frowned. It had never occurred to her before; their mother had died mysteriously, an accident, their father had said. Had he had a hand in it? Had he killed her, his own wife, for daring to defy him? She trembled; he was proud and cruel and vicious enough. Mad, too. She knew that thought would haunt her, not knowing her mother's fate, the truth of it beckoning to her insidiously. It mocked her. _You know the spell_, it seemed to taunt her. _Jadis need never know. It is not magic used against her, Eleni. Not knowing will drive you mad. You want to know, do you not? Whether your father murdered her for speaking out against him, and all he stood for?_

Oh, she wanted to know. "I will not!" she spoke aloud, fiercely, trying to deny her desire to speak the truth spell, show what happened. "I _will_ not," she repeated, more quietly, gently setting the wand aside. It seemed to call to her, but she ignored it. Too much was at stake to risk using magic for something like this, something that could wait until the battle was over, until Jadis and her troops were defeated.

It could wait.

But what if she died, and did not know the truth?

_No matter. I would be dead; I would not __**know**__ that I did not know_, she argued internally.

But if Jadis captured her, took away her wand, prevented her from practising her art, keeping her in captivity? Then what? A life of not knowing? Would Jadis, for the sake of her long-dead mother, her estranged sister, perform the spell herself, that they might both know? Or had she grown so cold that she would follow in her father's cruel footsteps, and deny her that knowledge?

There was no way of knowing.

She stopped her hand, half-way to the wand. "No." She took a deep breath, stood up, and went to the basin of water, splashing her face. She'd been doing so well, not using magic. She wouldn't risk everything for this, a family matter…

She thought for a moment, and called for her quill and parchment. She sat quietly for a while, then penned a short note to her sister. A request to use magic for one small spell, a truth spell, to discover the fate of their mother, on the understanding that she would send word to Jadis of the outcome, when she knew it. There; she was not breaking the terms of her agreement, but asking for immunity for one small spell.

She moved restlessly as she waited for the messenger to return. Would Jadis refuse permission? Or would she, too, wish to know?

Finally, the slave returned. Hands trembling, Eleni broke the seal and scanned the few lines in Jadis' spiky, angular script, so different from her own flowing, elegant one. Permission granted for that one spell.

Swiftly she began her work, in her zeal never questioning Jadis' reasons for granting her permission – for why would she not want to know the fate of their mother? As she scattered the ingredients for the truth spell into the flames of the brazier, she watched the scene unfold before her eyes.

Their mother, arguing with their father, pleading with him not to teach them magic. Their father's stern, autocratic refusal. "They are children of the royal house of Charn. It is their birthright. I will hear no more on it." Furious words from both following, tempers rising. Eleni held her breath; would their father strike the woman he had chosen to be his wife? But no blow fell. Their mother, angry and weeping at the words spoken on both sides, fled the room, their father gazing stormily after her, but not rising to follow her.

Their mother, blinded by her tears of anger, missing her footing and tumbling down the stairs, a scream escaping her. Their father suddenly appearing at the top of the stairs, her name wrung anguished from his lips. "Anneli! _Anneli!_" But her neck was broken. Their father in grief, wracked with sobs, blaming himself, blaming the children on whose behalf she'd spoken. When he looked up, it was as if his eyes met hers – but where they had been proud and cruel before, now they were mad with grief as well.

So, he had spoken the truth. It had been an accident, one he blamed himself for, blamed _them_ for, and his grief and madness had taken control of him. Hands shaking she penned another note to Jadis. _It is done; an accident, no more than that. It drove him mad with grief. _

She sat back with a shuddering sigh, heart aching for the family they had once been. He had loved Anneli, then, in his fashion. Perhaps he had even loved his children once. For all his faults, there had once been some good in him – some good in all of them. Perhaps there was hope for them yet. She reached absent-mindedly for the wand, its flames comforting her, warming her.

Jadis smiled as she read the note, her wand carelessly to one side; she had no addiction to the art her sister so slavishly followed, but used it when she had the need. It was, she reflected, just as much a weapon unused, when Eleni could barely last a week without needing to use it. She had no interest in knowing how her mother had died; she barely remembered her. What mattered, now, was the power – for Charn _would _be hers. How long before Eleni realised the trap – permitted to use one small spell to renew her addiction to the art, so another followed?

Her smile grew more grim and icy. Eleni had always underestimated the will of her sister to rule above all else, believing the bond of sisterhood would win out, that familial love would kindle its flames in her heart once more, prevent her from using the Deplorable Word, or whatever means it took to win this battle. Eleni, their mother's favourite, their father's favourite, while she, Jadis, the elder twin was passed over as Empress! Weak, her love for Anneli, their father – even for herself, who had once been her close friend and confidante. All emotion that stood in the way was a weakness, and she would not allow it to thrive within her. Eleni was alive with fire and passion; she had long since turned her back on those things. She had control, where Eleni did not. The addiction would burn in Eleni's veins and allow her no rest; how long before her sister had to give into it, and perform another spell, playing right into her hands?

"Soon," she whispered, eyes glittering in the night. "Soon."


End file.
